


Dime Store Saints

by DisappointMe



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisappointMe/pseuds/DisappointMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We were scared and tired and barely seventeen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dime Store Saints

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Miss Laura's fault.

Bucky hears his foster dad yell something about being home on time or else something and something and ass kicked, but he doesn't respond. His seventeen years have taught him that ignoring him generally gets him the best response. Agreeing gets him a back-handed slap across a cheekbone, but disagreeing gets him a broken arm. Last time that one happened, it had put him in cast and turned Steve into a wreck. It took Bucky an hour to convince him not to go in there himself and give the man a piece of his mind. Bucky knew what his foster dad could do when he was mad enough and he didn't like the thought of that happening to Steve.

"Yes, sir, I'll be home before dark," he lies as the broken screen door shuts behind him. It doesn't really matter because the old man will be out to the bar the second the wife comes home with her paycheck from the diner.

He takes off down the back steps of the apartment and cuts through the alley. It smells like trash and sewage and there's always a mysterious puddle of something that's probably urine that he needs to hop over, but it cuts four minutes off his trip and he's already late meeting Steve. He rounds the corner, cuts through a dog run and hops a back fence before he sees the big house in the distance. When he comes up to the front, there are dirty, broken toys scattered around the yard and the sound of two kids yelling at each other coming from the back. He slips in the front door and takes the steps two at a time, turns down a hall and sneaks up to the door. He knocks twice, then lets himself into the small bedroom. There's a set of bunk beds pushed into the corner, but his eyes fall to the desk near the window overlooking the scraggly back yard.

"Steve..." he says slowly when the boy in question doesn't even bother to look up from his homework. He watches Steve's head drop down, the sunlight coming through the window catching the gold streaks in his friend's hair.

"Oh, hey Buck. I'm uh, I don't think I can do anything right now, I'm a little tired and I don't think I'm up for –"

The thing about Steve Rogers is that he's the worst liar Bucky has ever known. He shakes his head and sighs.

"Let me see." Bucky feels a swell of something he's never quite been able to name rise up in the back of his throat. He hates this part. It makes him feel powerless and useless and like he's a constant let down to the only person in his life who matters. Steve would rip him a knew one if he knew he beat himself up like this, but he just can't help himself. Never can when it comes to Steve.

"I'm okay, I swear," Steve says. It's not a lie because he believes it, but Bucky knows better.

It takes him just a step and a half to cross the room and in the length of time it takes Steve to think of something else to say, Bucky is there making aborted reaches towards Steve because he doesn't want to aggravate the new bruises or darken the old ones. Softer this time, he insists, "Let me see."

Steve starts to turn and already Bucky can see the bright red on the left side of his cheek and the broken blood vessels in his eye. His nose looks like it had only recently stopped bleeding and his lip is swollen, the tiniest trickle of blood pooling in the corner of his mouth. He bites his own lip to keep from saying something stupid and reaching out to shake Steve for being such an idiot, because he _is_ , he's just so _stupid_ sometimes, jumping into fights the way he does.

"Come on, stand up."

"Bucky, it's just-"

"Stand up," he repeats. He backs away from the desk as Steve pushes the chair back and stands, not looking him in the eye. Steve pulls off his sweater, his white button-down and then his undershirt. He hunches down, curls in on himself, ashamed of his small frame, the bones of his spine that curl up his back, his ribs that press against his too-pale skin. Ashamed to let Bucky see him like this again. There are two bruises already starting to form: one in the shape of a large fist in the curve of Steve's waist on his left side, and the other looks something like a boot heel on his lower back just below his kidney.

Bucky's taken more than his share of fists and boot heels, but nothing hurts him like seeing Steve's skin red and purple-blotched and bleeding and broken. 

"That doesn't look good, Steve," Bucky says, curling his fingers against his palms so he doesn't trail them along the outline of the bruise. “Maybe we should see a doctor.”

"No, no. It's not that bad, I told you. I'm okay," Steve insists, his eyes looking bright blue against the red of the blood vessels and dark eyelashes.

"No, Steve," Bucky snaps, his worry getting the best of him. "You're not okay. This? This is not okay."

Bucky turns away from him, stalks to the door and slams it on his way out of the room. He stomps down the stairs, not caring who, if anyone can hear him. There are nine kids in the home and neither them nor the good-for-nothing caregivers notice that Bucky comes and goes as he pleases. They probably thinks he's one of them. He wishes he was so at least one person would be around to look out for Steve. Lord knows he'll never manage to do it himself. He finds a couple of clean dish towels and grabs a tray of ice from the icebox and takes a moment to calm down before starting back up the stairs. When he opens the door, Steve has his undershirt back on and is sitting in the chair, back to the desk and chin jutting out defiantly. He can't help the smile that breaks across his lips because as much as he hates it, this is what makes Steve who he is. It's one of the many things Bucky admires about him.

"I don't like bullies and if I stand by and just let – there were four of them and one of him and I know what it's like." Steve pauses, and Bucky can't help but hear the _and so do you_ that dangles at the end of that sentence. "I'm never going let that happen to someone else. Not when I can stop it."

"But you can't stop it, Steve! You can't. You're just giving them another target and I just wish you would..." But Bucky doesn't finish his sentence. They've had this talk before and Steve isn't going to change and as deeply as Bucky hates it, he likes it, too. There's a certain comfort in knowing that Steve will always be Steve.

He sets the tray on the desk, wraps some ice in one of the towels and hands it to Steve who takes a deep, painful breath and presses it to his side. Bucky fills the second towel with ice and stands in front of Steve who smiles at him, eyes bright and determined, making that warm, terrifying feeling well up in the pit of his stomach. "I'll be okay, Buck."

"I know you will. But you just..." He sighs and presses the towel to the side of Steve's face. "I just wish you'd keep your head down sometimes, you know? I'm might not always be around to protect you. You have to stop looking for trouble."

"I'm not _looking_ for trouble!" It would be indignant if it wasn't muffled by the towel and slurred by the split lip. "And you don't have to protect me."

"Yeah, I do," he says softly. He can feel Steve's eyes on him, feels them like they can see everything Bucky has been trying and failing to say forever. When he was fourteen and boys his age were noticing how Alice Meyer was starting to fill out her sweater, he was noticing the inky darkness of Steve's eyelashes, the summer-sky blue of his eyes and how, when Bucky was being his most charming, Steve would look at him like he hung the moon. He knows there isn't a lot of time anymore and he's never been brave when Steve wasn't first but he has to learn how to be. "I filled out my draft card today. My birthday's next month and I might have to join just to have a place to go."

"That's swell, Bucky! I can't wait until I can serve," Steve's excitement is genuine and heartfelt, like he can't see how something like that could ruin them. 

"But I won't be here, Steve. Who is going to keep you out of trouble? Who's going to do this for you when I'm gone?" Bucky asks urgently.

Steve is quiet, thoughtful for a moment. His mouth is a hard line, but his eyes show understanding. "It's not that I don't appreciate you, because I do, but I never asked you for this. You don't have to protect me or worry about me or take care of me."

Bucky pulls the ice away, drops his hands to his sides and leans down a little. He needs to see both of Steve's eyes for this. For a moment, he almost backs down because losing this would be like losing it all but Steve is a good person. He'll forgive Bucky for his weakness, keep his secrets. "I do, Steve. There's one thing – the only thing – I've ever needed, the only thing that's ever really meant something to me and I need it to be safe because it's important. The most important thing I'll ever have. Steve. I need you to listen to me: I need you to be okay without me because I can't leave here if I don't think you're going to be okay. I need something to come back for and I want that something to be you."

They're the scariest words he's ever said, scarier still because Steve is just looking back at them, but Bucky's never been so good with words and it's the best he can do. Steve blinks up at him like he's just said every word in Russian or that he can't believe anyone would ever feel that way about him. It hurts him a little because just once he wants Steve to see himself the way that Bucky does: smart and strong and so brave. All of the best parts of Bucky come from Steve. Everything good and right and honest about him is there because all he's ever wanted is to be worthy of knowing Steve and he just wants him to know that.

"What?"

Bucky lets his eyes fall to Steve's mouth, wipes away the blood on his lip with his thumb and hesitates for just the briefest of moments before leaning down to kiss him. It's both the most dangerous and smartest thing he's ever done and no matter what happens, he knows he won't ever regret it.

Steve's intake of breath is sharp and he freezes under Bucky's mouth, but for the first time since he started feeling like this, he knows he's right to think of Steve this way. All hesitation, all doubt is gone because nothing he's ever done in his life has felt like this. He lets his thumb drag across the curve of Steve's jaw, but doesn't kiss him harder. He wants to, but he doesn't want to hurt him. Bucky pulls back, looks at Steve and almost laughs at how dumbfounded he looks.

"You get it now?"

"I understand even less now, actually," Steve says flatly. Bucky blinks, but there's just a hint of a smile at the corner of Steve's mouth, so he kisses him again. This time, Steve kisses back, tentatively reaching up to place his hand at the back of Bucky's neck. Bucky sighs against his lips, but it's Steve's tongue that gently slips into his mouth so Bucky kisses him like it's everything, cups his face as he stands over him, hums at the way Steve's nails eagerly dig into the back of his neck. His lungs start to burn from his refusal to stop kissing Steve to breathe, so he pulls away and takes deep panting breaths, drops his forehead to Steve's. 

Their faces are too close to actually focus, but he doesn't need to see Steve's smile to know that it's there. He smiles, too, relieved and pleased and giddy because this is all he's ever wanted for too long.

"I'll try to stay out of trouble," Steve says into the scant space between them. "I'm not making promises, but I'll try."

Bucky pulls back, lets his fingers ghost over the bruising skin around Steve's eye before leaning down and very gently kissing him there. Steve lets out the sweetest little sigh, so he steps between his legs and wraps him in an awkward hug. 

It's not a promise, but it's enough.


End file.
